Mistaken Identity
by Katsuko1978
Summary: Never make assumptions based on past experiences; you might just be mistaken, and not everyone has a good sense of humour. Post-ROTF AU.
1. Mistaken Identity

**Disclaimer:** Transformers © Hasbro  
**Warnings:** Mistaken identity and "gender confusion" in a sense.**  
****Notes:** Oh... my god. This has been trying to get out of my head for a week, but I held off while trying to get this semester wrapped up and keep from murdering Professor Flakenstein. Now, though, I've gotten it out of my head.

* * *

**Mistaken Identity**

It had been about a few months since he'd been to Diego Garcia – that sort of happened when you were still in college and had midterms to deal with even after saving the world yet again – so Sam wasn't surprised to note that there were a few new faces on base.

He'd already met Hound, the resident tracker who for obvious reasons opted to take on a Jeep Wrangler alt mode, and Mirage, a blue mech with a Porsche alt mode that was the head of intelligence having apparently been Jazz's immediate second, but there was still one more that had arrived with the pair that he hadn't been introduced to as yet.

Needless to say, Sam was a bit startled to walk out onto the tarmac with Bumblebee – who was trying to keep Skids and Mudflap separated as usual – and spot the last newcomer literally perched on Sideswipe's arm as the pair of them and Ironhide conversed in their native language.

From what he could make out, the unidentified 'bot probably had a similar alt as Arcee (she was still adapting to having only one component to control once again, but had recovered enough to harass the mechs around her and bemoan being 'outnumbered by mechs' the last time he'd talked with Mikaela) except where Arcee was blue this new motorcycle was red. She didn't seem bothered by the fact that the mechs she was talking with were well over twice her own size, shifting position to slide down and rest more comfortably in the bend of Sideswipe's arm; the mech carefully bought said arm around to give the 'cycle a more secure perch.

"Who's the new chick?" Sam asked, and only realized that he must have said the wrong thing with everyone fell silent and turned to look between him and the 'bot still perched on Sideswipe.

Just as abruptly as the silence had fallen it was broken as the red 'bot suddenly burst into laughter, very nearly falling from her perch and having to be caught by a quick-thinking Ironhide, as Sideswipe was now staring at the 'cycle as if she had gone insane right before his optics.

"Gonna hurt yourself one of these days, 'Jumper," Ironhide groused as he set the red 'bot on the ground, letting out an exasperated and somewhat amused huff. The motorcycle swatted at him absently and rolled over to where the twins had shuffled behind Bee, bending at the waist slightly to look Sam in the eye.

"Kid, where the slag didja get the idea that 'small and thin' means 'femme'?" the motorcycle asked, still obviously amused, with a voice that possessed a faint yet masculine southern drawl. Sam started to stammer out an apology even as the other mechs let out what sounded like sighs of relief, only to stop his attempts when the red mech started snickering again. "Don't worry 'bout it, it happens. I mean, frag, Mister Lookit Me Now I'm Silver over there thought I was a femme at first, too."

Sideswipe groaned and slapped one hand over his optics. "Cliffjumper, why do you have to tell everyone about that?" he complained. The small red mech only grinned wickedly in response and rolled back over to pat his leg in an almost condescending manner.

Ironhide huffed and settled back on his heels, crossing his arms and smirking as the other two started snipping back and forth at one another. Sam shook his head and turned to go back into the hangar. If there was only one thing he'd learned from talking to Mikaela over the past few months, it was that when any couple started arguing – even playfully – it was probably best to get the hell out of the way and out of the line of fire.

He could always find Cliffjumper later to get blackmail material on Sideswipe; it sounded like the motorcycle had _plenty_ of that to spare.

* * *

**End Note:** _Yes_, I am well aware that movie!Cliffjumper is basically (once again) a Bumblebee repaint. I like to fuck with the status quo and keep my minibots miniature. Ergo, motorcycle!Cliffjumper. No worries, he's got a great sense of humour; he has to in order to put up with Sideswipe's crap.....

And, oddly, in my head movie!Cliffjumper sounds a lot like Christian Kane (aka Eliot Spencer from "Leverage" and/or Lindsey McDonald from "Angel").

**Added 4/28/2010:** Due to popular demand for more in this universe and my own insanity, there will be at minimum a sequel – or rather a prequel – to this story. It will appear as a second chapter, and I'm currently working on it. I'm just a teeny bit held up with one minor thing, so hopefully it'll be up by the weekend. Thanks for reading!**  
**


	2. Open Mouth, Insert Leg

**Disclaimer:** Transformers © Hasbro  
**Warnings:** Mistaken identity and "gender confusion" continues! Or begins. Something to that effect anyways.**  
Notes:** Prequel to Mistaken Identity is go! And yeah, I did a little bit of background as to why Cliffjumper is a cyclebot instead of a red Camaro aside from me screwing with the canon material :3

* * *

**Open Mouth, Insert Leg**

Cliffjumper's first thought when he came out of stasis was _Did that lousy no good airheaded seeker __**seriously**__ shoot me in the back?_ This was immediately followed by the realization that his frame felt odd, almost like there was a lot _less_ of it than there had been before.

"Tell me someone shot a hole through Starscream's wings for me," he groused aloud, wincing a bit as his vocalizer recalibrated itself. That was... weird, actually, and not much fun. And lookie here, that was Hoist hovering over his head now.

"No such luck, my young friend," the medic replied with an apologetic smile. "Arcee did get off a few rounds, however, and we were able to get you stabilized." The green mech paused, and in Cliffjumper's experience that usually meant bad news.

Like, 'we had to amputate you from the neck down' bad news.

"How bad was I, Doc?" he asked, shutterblinking and refocusing on the older mech.

Hoist sighed. "You were pretty torn up, 'Jumper," he admitted. "Sixty-three percent of your frame was damaged from both Thundercracker and Starscream's attacks, and we don't have the resources to do those types of repairs."

"And yet here I am still functioning."

"Only because we had a spare protoframe on hand in the event of such an emergency," the medic responded promptly. "Granted, it's significantly smaller than your previous frame, so we weren't even sure if the spark transfer would work. To be honest, I didn't expect you to come back online for another half-solar."

Cliffjumper exvented sharply. "How much smaller is _significantly smaller_ in laymech's terms?"

A joor or so later, the newly reformatted frontliner found himself headed for what passed as a mess hall in the Autobots' current base camp. Apparently _significantly smaller_ meant about three-fifths of his previous height, setting him on an even level with Arcee and Blaster's youngest hatchling Rewind, and for the time being he was on restricted duty until he adjusted to the lighter protoframe. And thus far the only familiar faces he'd bumped into were Ironhide on his way to check on one of his new trainees – whose only remark was "Glad to see you pulled through, 'Jumper. You got first shot on the microprocessored glitch next time we see him" – and Bumblebee, who was headed to the mess hall with him.

It really put into sharp perspective just _how_ much mass he'd lost; up until getting nearly ripped apart by seekers, he and Bumblebee had possessed nearly identical protoframes. Now Cliffjumper hovered somewhere around his oldest friend's chestplate at his tallest. His new frame was odd in the lacking of dual legs, but he did have anti-gravs and propulsion jets to move him in whatever direction he pleased, and he was still in possession of his arm blades as well as a little something extra Hoist had added in the event of another close encounter with the Decepticon flyers.

_::When do you think Hoist will finally let you back on the battlefield?::_ Bumblebee asked via comm link, expression earnest and worried.

"If I had my way, I'd be right there with you the next time the Cons start somethin' up," Cliffjumper replied, sliding into a chair and activating the tableside energon dispenser. "Knowing Hoist, probably at least an orn unless Ratchet overrules him."

_::In which case it could be a lot longer or shorter depending on his mood,::_ the scout concluded.

"Got that right. Slag," the smaller mech groused.

* * *

Sideswipe stretched his frame almost languidly as he followed his mentor towards the mess hall. Ironhide had had him working on striking moving targets for most of the morning, and finally deemed it time to take a break for a while. The red trainee was more than ready to refuel, and there was likely to be someone new to gossip with – or about – in the mess hall at this time of day. Transfers to and from the frontlines and other outlying camps were fairly commonplace, so he liked to grill newcomers for information.

And sometimes, he could manage to talk a pretty face into something a bit more entertaining. He might be a trainee still, but he was training under _Ironhide_, and that apparently still meant something major to those who remembered life before the Lord Protector drifted into madness.

Sideswipe glanced around the mess hall as they entered, optics falling onto a table off to one side. He came to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of a _very_ nice chassis slouched in a seat across from that yellow scout who'd taken some heavy vocalizer damage at Tyger Pax. Sideswipe supposed that there was probably _some_ appeal to spending time with a bona fide hero, but there was no reason that he couldn't go and give the little femme another option.

Ironhide followed his gaze and groaned. "Don't do it, kid," he warned. "I doubt 'Jumper's in the mood for any slag at the moment."

"'Jumper, huh?" Sideswipe repeated the designation, ignoring the rest of his mentor's words. "I like it. Excuse me." And with that he headed for the table, moving with the confidence of a mech who knew what the outcome was going to be.

The trainee stopped next to the slim red 'bot, taking another moment to look her over. Oh yes, _nice_ chassis on her, with a single stabilizing column rather than legs, the end of which was tapping lightly at the floor as she apparently engaged in a comm link conversation with what's-his-name. True, there was a bit of extra kibble on the femme's back, centered mostly near her right arm for some reason, but Sideswipe wasn't one to be put off by a little extra armour.

"Excuse me," he said smoothly, leaning one hand on the table and giving a charming smile. "The name's Sideswipe. What's a pretty femme like you doing spending time in a place like this?"

The smaller 'bot turned and gave him a look that seemed to be equal parts confusion and annoyance. "Ain't Ironhide supposed to keep you on a leash or somethin'?"

Sideswipe shutterblinked, momentarily stunned but recovering quickly. That had _not_ been a femme's voice despite how smooth it was, but definitely a mech's. Still, the voice worked quite nicely with the rest of the package, and he wasn't one to let a tiny misstep stop him for even an astrosecond. "Sorry, my bad," he apologized, never dropping his smile. "No insult intended. I've just never seen a mech scout with your particular frame style before."

"Wow," the small red mech drawled, his yellow companion snorting on the other side of the table. "I'm impressed you can stand so easily with both pedes wedged in your mouth like they are. I'm no scout, kid."

Ooookay, this wasn't going well at all. The trainee blinked again before remarking, "Sniper maybe? Intel? 'Cause there's no way in the pit you're a frontliner."

Behind him, he could hear Ironhide groan and audibly slap one hand over his optics, and on the other side of the table the yellow scout – oh, yeah, Bumblebee, that was his name! – was staring at him with an expression of slow dawning horror. Most of Sideswipe's attention, however, was on the slim mech who was _growling_ and slowly pushing himself to his base support. A little voice in the back of his CPU was whispering that maybe he should have just quit while he was behind, before he torqued off the pretty-but-scary-as-pit minimech.

"Was it something I said?" he managed to get out just before the other lunged at him, and _damn_ but that little mech was fast; Sideswipe barely had the time to extend one of his arm blades to keep from having his face cut by the small red mech's own blade. As it was, the momentum behind the attack knocked them both to the floor. Sideswipe realized he must've blinked again, because all of a sudden there was a _very_ big gun aimed at his face and, huh, so _that's_ what all that extra kibble was for on the mech's back.

"Still think I couldn't be a frontliner, punk?" the mini snarled down at him, optics narrowed in annoyance. Before Sideswipe could plead forgiveness or apologize, another voice cut through the silence of the room.

_"Cliffjumper, what the slag do you think you're doing?!"_

Instantly the small red mech jumped from his perch on top of the downed trainee and initiated the transformation sequence to reformat his cannon back into an arm as a chartreuse-plated mech stormed across the mess hall, followed closely by Hoist. Sideswipe pushed himself up just as the first mech reached the mini and glowered down at him.

"Just giving Ironhide's newbie a pop quiz," the mech responded, crossing his arms and staring the newly arrived medic down coolly. "He might just survive five microns in the field."

The medic huffed in annoyance. "Well, at least we know the transformation sequence for your new cannon mod works," he said, his tone that of a long-suffering spark who knew that his patient planned to be as difficult as possible. "But that little stunt just put you on another three solars before you're released on _light_ duty, which means no more jumping mechs twice your size, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Cliffjumper drawled with a mild roll of his optics. "Whatever you say, Ratch'. Can I go now?"

"If by _go_ you mean getting your sorry aft to the med bay so I can make sure the rest of your sequence is operational, then yes, you can go," Ratchet replied, not moving an inch until the mini let out an amused snort and started for the door.

Ironhide waited until the medics, minimech, and scout had left the mess hall before stepping over to where Sideswipe was still seated on the ground, staring after the other four mechs. "So," he said, sounding both annoyed with his protégé and impressed with his friend's rapid recovery, "any questions?"

"Yeah," the trainee said. He turned and gave his mentor a wicked grin. "That Cliffjumper mech... is he single?"

* * *

**End Notes:** A couple of minor things. First off, Cliffjumper's injuries that prompted the frame transplant occurred canonically during the "Reign of Starscream" miniseries; in this story's timeline those injuries were still inflicted by the jets but it happened _much_ earlier in the war.

Secondly, I'm pretty sure Sideswipe has always been some variation of silver in the movieverse canon, but I wanted to mess with that a little too. So, again in story timeline, he was the same color as his G1 counterpart up until his arrival on Earth and scanning a new alt mode. Cliffjumper likes to tease him about this.

Third... there might be a third segment to the story. Sideswipe pretty much made it clear he's going to pursue Cliffjumper, and methinks that might be a nice way to tie it all up.

(And he still sounds like Chris Kane in my head, especially the growly part; I actually sat and rewatched the first episode of Leverage to actually hear the growl out loud rather than just in my head.)


End file.
